


pourquoi la mort te fait peur?

by vuorna



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Character Study, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:01:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23039008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vuorna/pseuds/vuorna
Summary: he stands there, staring at the sea. the sky is blue, but that is not an answer, nor does it offer one. there is plenty of space in front of him, above him, around him – yet he feels trapped. he feels like it doesn’t matter what he chooses to do next. like all roads will lead to destruction and there’s nothing he can do about it.also known as ben's POV of what happened after rey left him on kef bir
Relationships: Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	pourquoi la mort te fait peur?

**Author's Note:**

> i never thought i'd be writing a fic about ben solo. then tros happened and i descended into writing chaos. i wrote this in four days while listening to pomme's new album after not writing anything in years. the reylo in this fic is heavily implied but not that explicit. i just wanted to explore what went through ben's mind.

There is no going back. He feels his mother leave this world and at first, he thinks that causes the pain piercing through his stomach. It doesn’t take long until he realizes the pain is caused by entirely something else. Fueled by her rage and pain, she has thrusted the lightsaber through him. He gasps softly, a sharp intake of breath. He did not see this coming – was he a fool to think that she would never come this far?

Her eyes are full of pain. The tears escaping the corners of her eyes prove that she feels Leia’s passing as well. Her knuckles are white around the pale blue lightsaber. His gaze follows the blinding light until the realization hits him.

She has finally killed him.

He falls against the pieces of what used to be his grandfather’s grandest accomplishment. The raging sea sends another splash of water to their direction. There’s pain, yes, but it isn’t solely due to the gaping wound the lightsaber has left behind. He blinks, feeling the droplets of seawater roll down the side of his face, their salt mixing with his own tears. Pain swirls inside him, a complex mix of emotions and sensations. The burn of the wound, the inexplicable pressure on his chest, the wonder. He barely has enough energy to press his hand to his injury, only to see his fingers stained with blood. Only a miracle will save him now, he knows that.

Is this how it was always going to end? His grandfather’s lightsaber through him, death by Rey’s hand? The person who is a part of him, who should stand next to him as they conquer and rule together, instead is the one to end him?

Slight movement seizes his attention. She kneels next to him and his eyes flit to her hand that is slowly inching towards him. He stares at it, bewilderment rising its head in him. What is she doing? His eyes rise to her face, looking for answers. Her face betrays nothing, visible is only the anguish in her eyes. She closes them, concentrating. What for, he has only fraction of a second to wonder, before indescribable warmth and pure power course through him. He draws a sharp breath; his eyes widen as he can feel his flesh knitting itself back together.

Force healing.

Why has she used the Force to heal him?

Why didn’t she just let him die?

Does this mean…?

He looks at her, trying to find answers. He finds none. All he sees is the deep well of pain inside her, enhanced by his earlier words and now this. The sorrow hangs heavily around them. He has seen how much his mother matters to her, and now she is gone forever. He aches, and not because of the now non-existent wound.

There is plenty of pain in the world and they both have known it. They share it and it binds them together. Yet she resists, for there is too much goodness in her. That’s the influence of his parents. They have cared for her and taught her the proper ways of the Jedi. As they tried to teach him, but he was too weak. She is stronger than him, but at this moment, he doesn’t see her strength. Only bone-deep sorrow as they watch each other in silence, thoughts running through their heads.

“I did want to take your hand. Ben’s hand.” She breaks the silence with her solemn words. He feels the truth in them, her earnestness. He doesn’t find the words to reply, so he simply stares.

And then she is gone.

-

He lies there, for a moment. Too much has happened, too much has now changed. Trying to process everything is almost overwhelming.

He almost killed her. Would have killed her if Leia hadn’t stopped him. She almost killed him. Would have killed him if she hadn’t healed him with the Force.

What does it mean?

He has seen her abilities. She has the capacity for joining the Dark Side. She would make a perfect Sith with her heritage, with her raw power. Yet she is persistent to not do it. There is too much purity in her for that. Like in Ben, all those years ago, before Snoke’s whispers began and changed everything.

_I have been every voice you have ever heard inside your head._

He shakes his head, letting it fall to his side. Not Snoke, Palpatine. Never Snoke, never Vader, always Palpatine. What does it mean? He could pretend not to know, but the truth is easy to find. His heritage has always marred him. Son of war heroes, grandchild of Vader – it’s symbolic enough. It hurts to think that everything was just a plain manipulation. That he was Palpatine’s tool, a trophy of sorts. A powerful descendant of the Jedi, shaped into something useable, someone to do the dirty work with. The ultimate victory for the Dark Side.

Kylo Ren. The name given him by Snoke, the one representing the Dark Side. It has felt odd for some time now. He is no longer that person: the one who blindly followed Snoke, the one who so foolishly believed to be chosen for the task for his skills. Neither is he Ben Solo, the innocent child, the child of Han and Leia. He has not been innocent for many years, and his parents are dead.

Rey wants to believe that he can still be Ben Solo. He doesn’t know how to feel about that. It feels like a dream, one that will never come true. That much he knows. There is no going back to either of those names. That leaves only one question hanging in the air: what lies between Ben Solo and Kylo Ren?

-

The air is cold and wet against his skin. The sea continues to rage around him but he still lacks the energy to leave. Almost dying has taken its toll on him. His life has taken a toll on him. How old is he even? He can’t recall. Not that old, evidently, but right at that moment, he feels ancient. His bones hurt and it feels like there’s an invisible iron fist around his heart. It confuses him for a moment until he identifies the source of the feeling.

His mother is dead.

Given the way he has treated her for years, he should have no reason to grieve her. His actions have been unforgivable and any hope of reconciliation had disappeared as Han Solo had fallen from the bridge. Or that’s what he thought. The sensation through the Force, Leia reaching for her lost son, had been enough to shake him entirely. It had stopped the motion of his hand, confused the very core of him.

Why? After all these years, after all the disappointments, the reasons he has given to her to hate him, she didn’t? Was it the mother’s love, apparently the most powerful entity in the whole universe? He doesn’t understand. It goes against everything Snoke ever taught him to grieve Leia Organa. Kylo Ren should not feel this way. He has carried his name long enough that the tears rolling down his cheeks feel like a betrayal. A tortured scream escapes him, with no one there to hear him. There is a conflict raging inside him and he doesn’t know what to do. To whom should he now turn for advice? Who tells him what to do next?

For all his life, there has always been someone telling him what to do next. First it was Leia, keeping their home in order with a level of practicality and efficiency that was almost terrifying. Then came Luke, trying to teach him the ways of the Jedi. The rigorous training schedule barely left any free time. Finally, Snoke. Poisoning him with his promises and words, convincing him to begin his destructive journey.

They are all gone. There’s no one left to show him the way. No, that is not true. There is one person left, one he could gladly follow. Could he do it? The feeling on uncertainty is nearly crippling. He has to make a decision, but why is it so hard?

-

Finally, he rises. The sea has calmed and the sky is blue. It is almost beautiful, yet he doesn’t care. He takes a few tentative steps towards the sharp end of the ledge. Should he leave? Probably, but where would he go? Back to Exegol? Since he has yet again failed to tempt Rey to the Dark Side, it doesn’t sound like an option. Are there even any others? Frustration coils in him and he clenches his hands. 

He stands there, staring at the sea. The sky is blue, but that is not an answer, nor does it offer one. There is plenty of space in front of him, above him, around him – yet he feels trapped. He feels like it doesn’t matter what he chooses to do next. Like all roads will lead to destruction and there’s nothing he can do about it. Going back to Palpatine would result in his death, most likely. He remembers the Emperor’s threats and shudders. He had been so certain of his own success, he had blindly believed that he could convince Rey to join him. It will never happen, he knows that now. Too much has now changed.

The Resistance is not an option, either. They would not kill him, but they would not try to understand. For all he once was Ben Solo, too much time has passed. He has committed crimes far too heinous to forgive – or were they the work of Kylo Ren, instead?

No. He can’t distance himself from the deeds done while he was known as Kylo Ren. He did it all, every single horrifying act born out of misplaced hatred and false beliefs. He has destroyed so much: entire cities, planets, worlds… families.

He killed his father. He remembers the red glow, the turmoil swirling inside him, the surprise on Han’s face when the lightsaber pierced through him. Meeting him had been terrifying. It had destabilized him in a manner that nothing had managed in years. The doubt, the fear, the yearning, they had been far too much to him. He hadn’t known what to do, so he had clung to the only reality he knew. Snoke’s guidance, the First Order, the Dark Side. 

_I know what I have to do, but I don’t know if I have the strength to do it._

Lies, all lies. He has never been more lost than at that moment. Standing there alone with his father, he made a decision. It has taken him far too long to realize what an immense mistake he made, the most irreversible one of them all. He remembers thinking that it was the only way to go. The way to return to the usual, to the role he had been prepared for since his adolescence. Severing the final ties to his family, embracing his role and finally destroying Ben Solo for good.

It had only thrown him further from his course. The carefully maintained balance between the Dark and the Light had been more disturbed than ever after he had returned. It had been easy to blame his turmoil on physical injuries, but he had known it wasn’t entirely true. Han’s death hadn’t been the solace he had thought to find and it had terrified him. What if it had all been a mistake?

He had banished the thoughts from his mind, thrown himself into working for their cause. With time, it would finally bind him to the Dark for good and it would have been worth it. After all, Han Solo had never been Kylo’s father and Ben was dead. Yet he has always known the truth but the explicit knowledge of it pierces through him only now, as he stands there in the cold. He killed his father and he did it for nothing. It only caused him more pain and destroyed whatever little chance he had for leaving. Returning to his parents had always been a pipe dream, impossible to even imagine, but a deeply hidden part of him had still had hope. As he had thrusted his lightsaber through his father’s chest, it had shattered into million pieces. 

Someone could say that it is his own fault, and that he wholeheartedly believes as well. How could he have been so stupid? For all the power he has, he had still allowed himself to be used. Simply a pawn on the table, there to advance a greater plan. He has never had the chance to choose for himself. Except now, when he is alone on the ruins of the Death Star after almost dying – now he can choose which path he will follow.

Will it be the destruction, triumph and order of Palpatine and his Dark Side? Or the solitude, warmth and freedom of Rey and the Resistance?

-

Rey. For all he claims to know her, she remains a mystery. A conundrum that he wants to know better, a problem he wants to solve. He has done terrible things to her and to the people she knows, yet she had wanted to take his hand – Ben’s hand. He is not sure if he’s the Ben she wants him to be. She sees through him, sees his internal battles and insecurities and doesn’t use them to her own advantage. It’s rare. It is almost like she wants to help him.

It is a miracle, that she still feels so connected to him. He has done nothing to warrant her belief in him, nothing that shows that he can still be redeemed. Then again, they have no secrets. They know each other in a manner so intimate nothing will ever compare. She knows every single terrible thing he has ever done, yet 

But what if he’s beyond the reach of her help? What if he is too corrupted by the Dark to ever return to the Light? Sometimes it does feel like that. Sometimes it feels like nothing will make up for the mistakes he has made, for there are several. He is a criminal of the worst sort. A mass murderer, a torturer, a kinslayer. His reputation is widely known, surely there’s no soul left in the galaxy who hasn’t heard of the terrible Kylo Ren? Everyone knows how dangerous he is and what he has done. What if there is nothing that could redeem him in anyone’s eyes? What if he can’t break out of the vicious cycle of horrifying acts he’s been stuck in for as long as he remembers?

Rey believes he can. Does it make it true, then? He knows that she battles with the same difficulties. The pull to the Dark Side, the temptation of Palpatine and his promises. He was too weak to say no, but Rey – she is strong. 

He has no will to tempt her any longer. There is no point: his beliefs have changed and his heart is corrupted. Bringing Rey to Palpatine has stopped being a goal of his. Nothing good wouldn’t come out of it, he knows that now. Yet it doesn’t solve anything – Palpatine still wants Rey and will get her even without him. Most likely because she’ll go to him on her own. Foolish, brave girl.

But it is the only way to stop the Emperor. Rey is the only one who can do that.

-

“Hey kid.”

He turns around. The voice is familiar and it seizes his blood. He manages barely a step forward before his movement stops, the man in front of him causing a complete halt in his system. It is impossible. Nothing justifies the sight in front of him. It’s a dead man living and breathing, a complete paradox. His eyes are locked to the figure standing right below him, unable to do anything else but stare.

“I miss you, son.”

He has heard those words before. On the bridge, when Han pleaded him to come home. Just as then, the words haunt him. The reason is simply different. Then, they signified the home he had, the lost love and care of his parents and the pain as he realized what he had to do. Now, the father he killed is in front of him, a figment of his imagination, most likely. He will never return and it is his fault.

“Your son is dead.” That is true. The innocent Ben Solo, who had loving parents and a bright future, is forever lost, never to be seen again. He couldn’t become him again even if he tried for a million years.

“No,” Han says and steps forward. “Kylo Ren is dead. My son is alive.”

The words shock him. The rational part of him knows that it isn’t the real Han in front of him, therefore it must be a creation of his own imagination. Is his imagination proudly claiming the demise of Kylo and the life of Ben?

It is partly true, of course. There’s no returning to Palpatine, not with this instability inside him that the Emperor would detect in a fraction of a second. It’s not necessary to pretend to be Kylo Ren ever again. He is his past now, not the present. The deaths of Han Solo and Snoke, the name had been harder and harder to connect with. Now, after almost dying and being saved by Rey, Kylo Ren is finally gone.

But he doesn’t feel like Ben Solo, either. He won’t ever be him again, no matter how hard he tries. Ben Solo is the innocent son, not the murderer he has become. Pretending to be him would be an insult to the boy he once was, an insult to the father whose name he carried. Maybe he could settle with being just Ben, using the name Rey uses for him? She sees him, knows his pain and chooses to call him that. It’s nearer the truth than being Kylo or inventing an entirely new name or trying to fit into the mold of Ben Solo.

Maybe.

“You’re just a memory.” He feels uncomfortable enough to point that out, having already averted his eyes from the being in front of him. Is he truly having a conversation with a figment of his own imagination? It’s not the oddest thing he has ever done and the Force is always there. It could be something more, or it could be not. He’s going to take whatever is coming.

“Your memory.”

There it is, the confirmation. It doesn’t matter. He is never going to have a chance to talk with his father again. Yes. His father. Han Solo was never Kylo Ren’s father, but whoever he is now, he will recognize Han as his father. The realization hits him deep, revealing hidden wells of emotion inside him that now threaten to spill over.

“Come home.” More lines he remembers from the bridge. Now they only have a bittersweet twinge.

“It’s too late.” He breathes out yet another set of familiar words. “She’s gone.”

“Your mother is gone. But what she stood for, what she fought for, that’s not gone.”

The words hurt more than he thought they would. He has never dared to dream of a reality where he would return to Leia, but now it won’t ever happen. She’s gone. However, the imaginary Han is right – the Resistance isn’t dead. They continue their fight, even though their chances of winning are next to none. Palpatine is far too powerful to be won by plain fighting. Rey is their only chance. The scavenger. She possesses incredible power, thanks to her heritage, yet she isn’t a Sith. She fights against the pull of the Dark with formidable strength. She rivals him in the terms of sheer power, perhaps ever overpowers him. He had goaded her at Pasaana, eager to see what she could do. The results proved that she is more than capable. And she will do it. She will find Exegol and fight Palpatine.

He is not sure if she can do it alone.

“Ben.”

Another word from Han returns his focus to the current moment. It’s his name. It must be, if his own mind insists upon using it. Perhaps he could settle being called Ben. It is the name Rey uses. 

Rey. Who will fight Palpatine, even though the chance of success is minimal. A scavenger from Jakku against the greatest Sith lord that has ever existed. It sounds ridiculous, but she’s much more than just an orphan from a forgotten sand planet. She is also powerful, though inexperienced. That will be her greatest obstacle, unless…

“I know what I have to do but I don’t know if I have the strength to do it.” He says, his voice wavering slightly. The response mirrors his own words from the bridge. The ones before the biggest mistake he has ever done. He dearly hopes he isn’t planning to make another mistake. It doesn’t feel like it, though. This time, he wants to do the right thing.

Han’s palm rises to caress his face. It breaks something inside him, pure feeling rushing through his veins. How he wishes he had seen the truth all those months ago, standing on the bridge. He had been blind and he will pay the price of it for the rest of his life. Yet there is no accusation in his father’s eyes, no anger or disappointment. Only acceptance and support.

“You do.”

Yes. He does. It is what he needs to do and it will be a thousand times easier than thrusting the lightsaber through his father’s flesh. It is dangerous. Not that he hasn’t lived a life full of dangers for most of his years, but now it feels different. Now he takes the steps on his own, makes the decision with his own free will. For once in his life, he will do something worth doing. After years of mindless destruction and chaos, he will finally do what he should have done ages ago. It’s like a veil has been lifted and he can see clearly. There’s a clear path in front of him, unlike anything he has ever known.

But he can’t do it while he still has his weapon. He lifts it, the red lightsaber, keeping the light unleashed. It is the final signification that still binds him to Kylo Ren. With this lightsaber he has done countless unspeakable acts. Killed, maimed, tortured. It is the weapon that killed Han Solo.

The moment is so like the one on the bridge that he can’t stop his emotions from breaking through. The face of his father, not like he remembers it from his childhood but like he remembers it from the terrible day that he killed him. Filled with love, like on the bridge. Even after everything he had done, Han would have welcomed him back. His father had loved him and in return, he had killed him.

If he regretted everything he has done, he would be buried under so much guilt that he would never see daylight again. So, he doesn’t. But killing Han, that is the one thing he will regret forever. Remembering it will cause physical pain until the very end of his days, only enhanced by the death of Leia. Now he is truly an orphan, just when he would need his parents the most.

“Dad.” His voice wavers as emotion bleeds into his words. It is the moment when every single confusing emotion runs through him. He trembles. There is so much he wants to say to his father. He wants to beg for his forgiveness, he wants to ask his advice, he wants to say how sorry he is for everything that happened. Yet he can’t. Everything he would say would sound bleak and unjustified. He has no right to say anything.

So perhaps it is enough, that he addresses him as his father. Like Ben Solo did, all those years ago. He would give everything to become that boy again, to do everything differently and not ruin his life. Lives of so many were ruined simply because he listened to a voice in his head. Maybe he should have just told his mother, and nothing would have happened? What kind of life he would have lived then? One filled with happiness and joy? Or would he have turned to the Dark Side nevertheless?

He will never know. All he will have is the false image of his father, conjured by whatever delusion his mind is going through. But he will take it and be glad, because it is the only thing he will have. It is the only way he will ever find closure, in the form of acceptance in Han’s eyes and the wry smile he wears on his face.

“I know.”

His father’s words are all the confirmation he needs. A swift turn and throw that has all his remaining power in it, and Kylo Ren’s lightsaber flies through the air. It is gone, never to be found again. It’s oddly symbolic, finishing what was a horrible chapter of his life on the ruins of the Death Star. 

It’s over.

Kylo Ren is dead.

-

He watches the lightsaber fall and sink into the water. It quickly disappears. He feels odd. Powerful and adrift at the same time. He can’t remember the last time he has felt like this; most likely it has never happened. The beginning of his future is now and the thought alone is baffling. He hasn’t had a new beginning since the very first whisper of Snoke’s. Now he has a new goal, a new mission to fulfil.

He turns only to see the visage of his father gone. It is not a surprise. He supposes his mind got what it wanted. He has finally let go of Kylo Ren, right? He is no longer attached to the Dark Side – that he can acutely feel. The difference is incredible. It feels like an ancient pressure has been lifted, like he can breathe again after so many years. What does it mean? Maybe he was never meant for the darkness, maybe that is why he struggled so much during the years of his training. All the bad, all the anxiety, all the stress, it has disappeared.

Another mark on his very long list of regrets: becoming a Sith.

Letting that part of himself feels surprisingly easy. He suspects it is because it hasn’t been a true part of him for a very long time. He had tried to reach for it, to hold onto the last remnants of it, but now it is gone. Shadows of it still remain, will probably remain forever, but it doesn’t define him any longer. He won’t ever be a Jedi, but neither is he a Sith. It feels relieving. He needs to leave. Where to, he isn’t entirely sure. Any place will do, as long as he finds food, new clothes and transportation. A place to prepare for the upcoming hardships, for he already knows he will go to Exegol. That is where Rey will be going, after all. He will offer her his assistance and together they will end Palpatine. 

Or die trying.


End file.
